Page:Poems Jackson.djvu/318

The hours grew ripe: the hour was set,
The night had come. Choy slumbered yet,
While faithful Boon, with footsteps light,
Made all things ready for their flight.
Sudden a clash of arms,—a gleam
Of fire of torches! From her dream
Choy waked, and on her threshold saw,
Dread sight which chilled her blood with awe,
Standing with panting voice and breath,
Maï Taïe, Mother of Death,
Cruelest of all the Amazons,
Slayer of all convicted ones
Who braved the tyrant's wrath and hate.
Choy called on Boon. Too late! too late!
Boon fettered lay with gag and chain;
Most piteous eyes, faithful in pain,
Unto her mistress lifting still.
With blows and jeers wreaking their will,
The soldier women, fierce and strong,
Dragged weeping Choy and Boon along
The by-ways of the silent town,
And flung them, chained and helpless, down
Into a dark and loathsome cell.
Soon as their footsteps' echoes fell
Faintly afar, Choy whispered low,—
"O Boon, dear Boon! tell me hast thou
Confessed?"
Confessed?""Dear Lady, no!" she cried.
"No tortures tyrants ever tried
Shall wring from me one word of blame
Against Phaya Phi Chitt's dear name."
That instant, flashing through Choy's heart